Johanna Mason: Moving On
by Arowana Flounder
Summary: An epilogue to 'Johanna Mason: They Will Never See Me Cry'. Johanna is in Capitol after the rebellion of 'Mockingjay'. She has to make new friends, rediscover and say goodbye to old ones, and come to terms with everything that's happened since the very beginning.
1. The Sky

**Chapter One- The Sky**

The sky is blue. The sky is blue. The sky is blue.

That's what I tell myself again and again. I can't see the sky, but I'm pretty sure it's blue out there. In here it's grey, or black, or a horrible bright white. There're cracks in it and dark, rusty stains that I suspect might be blood.

The sky is blue. This is not the sky. Outside somewhere, the sky is blue. Outside somewhere things are happening. Good things. Things that should be happening, that need to be happening. I'm here because I made a mistake. I should have died. But I didn't. Now I only have grey, or black, or a horrible bright white. It's the end of the world in here, but I take comfort that it isn't out there. The sky is blue out there. Out there things are happening. They must be, otherwise it wouldn't be so painful in here.

"Johanna?"

I open my eyes and, instead of the grey, or black or a horrible bright white, I see cream-coloured squares.

"Are you alright?" comes the voice.

"Of course I am!" I snap back. "Must have just dozed off for a minute, you really do talk such boring crap." I swing my legs around so I'm sitting upright again on the couch. "Are we done yet?"

"We have another forty minutes on the clock. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"

I stick out my lower lip and shake my head.

"Nope."

"Annie told me that you've switched rooms with someone and now you have an ensuite bathroom."

My face darkens.

"Annie should have kept her big mouth shut," I growl.

"Have you been using the shower?"

"Yes."

"Is that a lie?"

"No." And it isn't. I've been working hard, but I'm not going to tell _him_ that.

"You know I'm only here to help…"

"Yeah well…" I shrug, and stand up. "Can I go? I'm only here because they make me."

"Everyone involved in the…unpleasantness…who wants to be a part of the rebuilding has to come talk to me, you know that Johanna."

"Well you can write in your little file that I did come to talk to you, twice in fact, so I'm not going to try to kill the President, or swallow any suicide pills. I am damaged but not planning to _do_ any damag_ing_, ok?"

I push an authorisation note across his desk.

"Just scribble your scribble along the bottom there and I'm good to go, never to darken your doorway ever again."

He presses his fingers together, making an arch with his hands. I hate that arch. Maybe if I took some of those heavy books on his bookshelf, and smacked them down on his fingers, he wouldn't be able to make that stupid arch. He raises his eyebrows.

"Come on Doc, cut me some slack. I _just_ want to get on with my life."

"So you're ready to talk about what happened at the funeral then?"

I let out a long, frustrated sigh and sink back into the sofa, staring at my feet, which are now resting on the coffee table.

"Is that a no? Then maybe you should take this back." He pushes the note back across his pine desk and then scrawls something in his black, leather file.

"I hate you," I mutter scathingly.

"That doesn't surprise me Miss Mason. If you feel that we're done for today then take this…" He holds out a blue strip of paper. "…give it to my secretary and schedule yourself for another three visits. We will keep going over this until I'm sure you're not a danger to yourself or those around you."

I snatch the paper out of his hand.

"I didn't hurt anyone at the funeral," I spit. "Or myself, not really."

"Mrs Odair tells it differently," he says casually, writing in his file again.

I stand there for a few seconds, speechless in my fury, before turning on my heels and stomping out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I throw the blue paper at the young man in reception. He bleats something at me but I ignore him and blow through the fancy glass doors out into the street.

The midday sun shines blindingly down onto the top of my head and I have to squint. Where am I again?

I shade my eyes and check out the street sign on the corner of the Doctor's office.

'Opal Drive', that's…four or five blocks east of the park, and twenty-something blocks south of The Training Center. There are a couple of cars on the side of the street but none in motion. The roads around this part of town are in good condition, but most of the city's streets are still littered with debris from the bombs and crumbling buildings. I'll have to walk. No one dares drive yet so there are no taxis picking up fares anymore.

We're trying to get it all cleaned up. The area around the City Circle, where we once had the Tribute Parades, has taken the most work. The Training Center itself was raided and looted by the rebels as well as desperate Capitol citizens. I've only stood inside the main foyer since I returned to the Capitol, it was all I could manage, but I doubt there's much of what I remember beyond.

Along my walk I see a lot of the Capitol's deflated prosperity. Despite this being a relatively privileged area, I still spot a couple of dirty faced children, orphans from the 'unpleasantness', darting around the back of an abandoned bakery. Lost children, with no homes or family. There's a new building north of here that's in the process of being turned into a home for these kids but I doubt there's room for all of them. If I was one of them, I'd rather be homeless in an area I knew, than shoved into a dormitory with a bunch of others, looked after by the people I blamed for killing my parents.

It's true, there are still those out there that hate us for what we've done. Most, mainly in the Districts, have supported the destruction of everything built on our foul history, but there are still some who seek to hinder our rebuilding.

As a Victor, most animosity has been aimed at me.

During the 'unpleasantness', most of the other Victors were killed, either by rebels who thought they were on the Capitol's side, or by the Capitol who thought they were on the rebels' side. That confusion still remains in some minds and I'm usually given a wide-berth when I move through crowds. I don't mind. I'm used to it.

Somewhere along the street, someone empties a bucket of water and I flinch at the sound of splashing liquid.

The Capitol is not what it once was, and neither am I.

But, when I look up, the sky _is_ blue.


	2. Talking

**Chapter Two- Talking**

My first stop when I get back to the old President's Mansion is a plush room on the third floor. The room is empty but there is the goosebump-inducing sound of running water from behind the bathroom door.

"Annie!" I bang on the door.

"I'm in the shower!"

"Then get _out_ of the shower! I need to talk to you!"

"What about?"

"Out here now!" I stomp over to a couch in front of the window and flop down on it.

The water shuts off and I can hear her moving around. She didn't used to be so loud, but then again she's carrying extra weight now isn't she? When we were both here in the Capitol together the first time, she was a quarter of the size she is now. I guess I was as well…I don't know they didn't really have a lot of mirrors. I probably looked worse than her; she still had her hair.

She didn't talk to me a lot then. I didn't really talk to her either. In fact, I only said three words to her. They brought her in to try and unnerve me. There wasn't anyone else closer to me that they could have used, but they knew how much I cared for Fi—for my friend, and he loved her.

"Who was your Capitol contact Johanna?" they asked me.

I shrugged.

"Your friend is very fond of her isn't he? Wouldn't it be a shame if she wasn't as pretty the next time he saw her?"

I shrugged again.

"None of us are pretty anymore," I told them.

"Yes but what a pity if she'll never be a mother… now will you tell us?"

I looked right into Annie's sea green eyes and said, "Sorry but no."

At least the Capitol is well-known for lying because when she opens the bathroom door, her pregnant belly is the first thing that appears. She's absolutely enormous now, even though she's still got two months left until what we've been calling Baby-Day…at least that what she calls it. I call it something else when she's not around.

"Am I in trouble?" She pokes her head around the door, her sea green eyes fearful.

"You're damn right you're in trouble," I tell her, my arms folded. "Sit down."

She emerges, wrapped only in a fluffy white towel, her wet, dark hair dripping down her back. She perches on the edge of her perfectly made bed.

I'm angry at her for talking about me with the 'doctor' but as much as I'm dying to let rip at her, I can't while she's sat there.

"Look, you don't look very comfortable, sit here." I get up and gesture to the sofa.

"I'm ok here," she tells me.

"Right fine!" I roll my eyes and start to pace the room. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to Dr Big Books about me, Annie."

Annie's face immediately flushes pink, she's been caught out.

"He said it was confidential! I…I didn't…I'm sorry…I didn't think you'd find out," she stammers.

"So you just thought you'd get me into trouble and I wouldn't find out?! You're such a tattletale!"

"That's not what…it's not what I meant by telling him. He told me to tell him about the funeral…he said it would…help." She gulps, her eyes sparkling with tears. "I just said that I could see you were…hurting. But you sat at the back on your own, and I thought you were just dealing with it in your own way…then I found the n—"

"But you didn't need to tell him that!" I clench my fists down by my sides. "It was a blip! I didn't talk to anyone! I didn't interfere! I haven't done it again! It was a mistake! You didn't have to even mention it!"

"I thought you had it all together!" she pleads. "I thought I was the only one falling apart…_again_. I just told him that when I discovered that you were high, it made me realise that I wasn't on my own."

"He's signing me up to at least three more sessions! You've planted the little seed in his mind that I'm a junkie that turns back to morphling the second things get tough!"

Annie's silence is telling.

"Damn it, if you weren't pregnant Cresta," I growl.

"Odair," she says quietly.

"You know I'm not calling you that," I snap.

"Maybe it would help you if you talked about it with someone."

"We're talking now aren't we?!"

"You're shouting at me, that's not the same as talking about it Johanna."

"Well it might have escaped your attention, _Annie,_" I stomp over to the door. "But I don't have a lot of people left to talk to. Thank you for proving that I cannot speak to you either without everyone finding out about it."

I slam the door behind me and stalk down the grand staircase to the floor below where my room is. I pace some more, just working off the frustration I feel pounding in my chest.

How _dare_ she? How dare she discuss _my_ business with Dr Big Books, and then her excuse of 'it made me feel better knowing you'd messed up'.

I bang my fists down on the mattress of my bed and cry out as I do it. It's not just anger that I'm screaming out, it's betrayal, and shame.

I don't remember much about the funeral in District 4. The lead up to it was awful. Annie spent a week gathering up _his_ things to put in the boat that we were going to send off. We had no body so Annie wanted to do a special memorial thing. We'd put some of his stuff in a boat and send it off to be claimed by the ocean. She showed me loads of things that I'd never even seen before: a favourite book, a childhood blanket, a few self-invented fishing flies. It all blurred together in the end and I knew that I couldn't bear to watch it all float away, because even though I'd never seen it all before, it was still him.

The night before the funeral, I found a healer who accepted an extravagant amount of money for a sixty-millilitre vial of morphling and a syringe. I didn't really have any intention to use it at that point. It was only when the men arrived in the morning to accompany the boat down to the beach that I felt that all encompassing panic, and excused myself, promising to meet them there.

I shot up in the bathroom, putting the needle in the same place the hospital in 13 had. It kicked in just as I got to the beach, so I sat at the back hoping no one would try to talk to me because I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to form words.

No. No, I'm not thinking about this again.

I lift my head from the pillow I've smushed it into and decidedly stride back down the stairs to one of the many sitting rooms in the mansion. I pick this one specifically for the discovery I made a few weeks ago in here.

One of the cabinets, the one nearest the window, doesn't open outwards like the others. If you press down on the top of it, the surface pops open, revealing a mini-bar inside.

I hook out the expensive looking bottle with a shining gold label and a big glass, and set up shop in one of the deep armchairs.

I'm on my…fifth drink I think, when the door behind me closes with a quiet click.

"Uh oh, caught in the act," I murmur.

"Thought you might be in here," comes a gruff voice.

"Thought you were in 2," I reply.

"Back for an important meeting. I think I've got time for a drink before bed though."

The handsome, olive skinned intruder takes a seat opposite me.

"You're assuming that I'm going to share," I tell him and purse my lips, cradling the bottle under my right arm.

"Aren't you?"

I roll my eyes and offer him the bottle. He takes a swig and then hands it right back to me.

"How's the family?" I ask him.

"Good, yeah good. Rory's got a girlfriend," Gale replies, sitting back in the armchair.

"What a player," I giggle into my drink, then drain the remainder.

"Her name's Griselda…"

I gape.

"Are you serious? I've heard some names in my time…Griselda…"

"He's getting a lot of grief from all of us about it."

I drink from the bottle and then offer it back to him.

"Have you heard from Katniss?"

He lets out a long sigh before he takes an equally long drink.

"No," he coughs, wincing at the strength. "I've tried to call her a couple of times but she doesn't answer. You?"

I shake my head.

"The same. But if that's what she wants, she wants to be left alone then I'll leave her alone." I reach for the bottle back. "I mean it might have been nice for her to call and have a conversation, but she's had a tough time. But do you know what Gale, haven't we all? Just because some of us don't stare into space in the middle of conversations or try to assassinate people, doesn't mean that we're fine right?"

Gale tilts his head to one side.

"You've fallen out with Annie again haven't you?"

"She told my shrink that I'm using again!" I exclaim.

"And are you?" He pries the drink back out of my fingers.

"No! Of course not! Don't even…" I clench my fists again and press one to my lips before I say something I shouldn't. "Look, do you want to just go and have sex or something because I tried this talking thing and it's not really working for me."

A smile plays across Gale's lips and he looks down at the bottle.

"I'm absolutely terrified of what's going to happen when I say this but: No thank you. Not tonight please."

I tut.

"Well fine then." I stumble to my feet and the world swims in front of me. "Woah!"

Gale's strong arms grab my shoulders and steady me.

"Do you even want to have sex with me?" he asks gently.

"It wasn't too awful last time…" I murmur.

"Not too awful, thanks. Especially considering I'd had a lot more of this stuff." He drops the almost empty bottle back into the cabinet.

He's right, it had been a drunken fumble in the dark one night a few weeks ago and I can't even remember most of it. All I remember is the disgusting hangover and the early morning slink back to my room, just like old times.

"Might as well suffer the hangover in my own bed," I say to myself, but I think he overhears.

"That's the spirit. Come on." His hands on my shoulders again, he guides me up the stairs and to my room, where he pauses at the door. He leans in a little closer and I think he's about to kiss me. I press my body a little closer, feeling the warmth of another living person. There's a flash of the time before, and then another reminder: a kiss on a porch in District 7, and another body holding mine tightly.

Then I realise my hand is on the doorknob. I don't want this so I turn my head away.

"See," he says. "I knew you didn't really want to." He walks over to the banister and hunches over it.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"It's ok. I just need to stop having a thing with you girls who don't know what you want."

I don't really know what he's saying but I feel bad for him, and his posture looks sad.

"Sorry," I say again. My bed is right behind this door. I just need to go to bed. "It wasn't going to be more than a 'thing' _ever._"

"Yeah, I know." He rests his chin on his crooked arm on the banister.

"Have a nice meeting tomorrow." I open my door.

"Thanks. Good talk."

I'm just about to close the door behind me, when the memory of the warm chest pressing against mine reminds me of something.

"Gale!" I call.

He's only got three steps down so he turns back expectantly.

"When you were in District 2… did you get many Peacekeepers from the Districts coming back?"

"Yeah, a few I guess. Not as many as there should be. The rebels in the Districts didn't take too kindly to the Peacekeeper presence once everything kicked off. Why?"

"No reason, it doesn't matter. Good night."

I flop down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I guess it was pretty cruel of me to do that to Gale, especially after everything he's been through with Katniss. I did _try_ to talk to him, but just like with Annie, I ended up ruining it.

No wonder I'm so lonely. That's what it really is. I'm lonely, but the moment someone tries to get to know me, I just push them away.

The only person that I haven't pushed away is a Peacekeeper that I met in District 7, but it sounds like the rebels might have taken care of that job for me.

I sigh, and roll onto my side, squeezing my eyes tightly shut and wrapping my own arms around me.

"It's going to get better," I repeat over and over to myself. "It's going to get better. It can't stay like this forever," and gradually I drift off to dreams of bright white lights and pouring water.


	3. The Man With The Crutch

**Chapter Three- The Man With The Crutch**

After the Sacking of The Capitol, when everything settled down, we set up a Lost and Found register. People could come and put their names and addresses down in case someone from their family came looking for them.

I usually volunteer a couple of hours most days, it beats sitting around in the mansion twiddling my thumbs, or worse, thinking.

Annie came with me on the first day but there were so many people that wanted to touch her stomach and tell her how sorry they are that she found it too overwhelming and now just stays inside.

I sit at a fold-out table on the sidewalk outside the Training Center while a line of people snakes around the whole circle, desperate to find out whether their loved ones are alive or dead. It feels pretty good when someone asks for a name and you can give them an address, but then it's agonising when you know that name is on the list of casualties from the storm on the Capitol.

I see tears, I see screaming, I see smiles and hugs, I see white knuckles and chest beating. It's amazing and then five seconds later its awful. I'm alright, I know that my loved ones are all gone. I don't have that fear of what name I might read on the Deceased List.

I'm still nursing a hangover from my little self-pity party when a sharply dressed young man comes to my table. His collar is starched and his cuffs a crisp white.

"I'm looking for my brother," he tells me.

"Sure, you and about a thousand other people," I reply, tapping my pencil on my list. "Let's start with your name."

He nods understandingly, biting his lip, his grey eyes shining.

"Libro, Libro Philips."

Philips…could it be…

"And you're originally from?" I jot down without even looking at the paper. Philips is a common surname; there must be hundreds of Philips on these lists.

"District 2, though I've been serving in 4 as a Peacekeeper for the past three years."

"Great, and so your brother would be in District 2?" I check.

"Well, I don't know. He is…or was…a Peacekeeper too, I don't know where he would have been posted."

This chides a little too familiar.

After I won the 71st Annual Hunger Games, like every other Victor, I was encouraged to take up a hobby in my home District, District 7. I started making tree houses, but since District 7 is responsible for providing the whole of Panem with its lumber I had to be constantly watched to make sure I wasn't wasting the precious supply. Part of that crew of guards was a Peacekeeper from District 2 by the name of Corporal Iberio Philips. He was ridiculously tall, and that was all I knew about him in that first year or so.

Three years later, another Peacekeeper attacked my little brother, and Corporal Philips carried him in his arms to the Healer's. My brother didn't survive and I took it hard, wandering out into the snow barefoot in just my pyjamas. Iberio found me and brought me home. We had a 'thing'. It wasn't ever official, or serious, or even physical (aside from a few surprise hormone-driven kisses at emotion-heightened moments), but there was mutual respect, and a couple of lingering longing looks.

Just before I was sent back into the arena for the 75th Annual Hunger Games he was dispatched to District 8. I later found out that this was because the rebellion against the Capitol and the Games had already started there. I had other things on my mind anyway and, except for dark, lonely nights in District 13 after everyone else was gone, I didn't really think about him. Not until last night with Gale of course.

"What is his name, your brother? I'll take a look at my lists."

"It's Iberio Philips," he says and my heart leaps into my throat. "Should I be hoping he's on your lists Ma'am or not?" It seems like his heart is in his too.

"It all depends on which list he's on," I tell him, flicking through the pages with a little more fervour than I usually do. I scan down the P's on the deceased list first. There are a couple of Philips but no Iberio or I. Philips. He's not on the registered list either.

"I'm really sorry but I can't find him anywhere," I tell Libro.

"Is that good news or bad news?"

"It's no news, which at the moment is the worst kind of news. We have some unidentified bodies but since you said he's a Peacekeeper if something had happened to him then he'd—"

"Have his dogtags on him to identify him." Libro finishes for me. "Ok, so he's probably not unidentified then."

"Are you staying here in the Capitol for a while?"

"For the foreseeable future at least."

"Ok, well if you could let me have the address of the place you're staying, if he does come here then we can send him straight on over to you."

"I'm staying in a couple of rooms above what used to be a dressmakers on Silicon Street."

It's an address that I recognise. The influx of people in the Capitol means that people are squeezing into accommodation like matches in a box. Silicon Street was completely ransacked during the war so there are homes and shops going empty. A lot of people are now taking a room each above and inside the shops to sleep in while they find their family or sort their lives out.

After Libro leaves, Yolanda, a hefty Capitol woman who seems to think she runs this operation, has 'a quick word' with me about not mentioning the unidentified bodies. I tell her that I'm done keeping things from people and carry on warning people that just because their loved ones are not on the deceased list, doesn't mean they're safe.

Yolanda complains about me to whoever's in charge of registry. I find out from Annie, who is waiting for me when I get back to the mansion. Apparently they told the pompous trout to leave me be, I've done enough for this nation.

Annie and I pretend we didn't have an argument. She asks me if I knew Gale was back in town. I tell her that I didn't. She raises an eyebrow in a way that makes me think that maybe she already knew that I'd seen him.

Just over a week later I'm coming back from lunch, pushing my way through the heaving, coiling line when I hear a high pitched whine. Frowning, I spin around. What a horrible sound, where it is coming from?

There, diagonally behind me, is a sobbing child. Everyone else seems to be ignoring her. I roll my eyes.

"Hey…err you…what's wrong?"

I tap the girl on the shoulder and she jumps, startled. She stares up at me with shining eyes, she can't be more than five years old.

"Why are you crying?"

She wipes her snotty nose with a sleeve and shakes her head. Kids are disgusting.

"Are you…lost or something?"

She nods and then lunges forwards and attaches herself to my leg. Great.

"Right…well err if you come with me you can stand at my table and if your Mom or whoever comes by they'll see you."

I hear her snivel again against my leg. She better not have gotten snot on my pants.

She clings so tightly to my leg that I can't move without dragging her behind.

"Look, are you going to walk by yourself?"

She shakes her head, so with an irritated groan I lift her up into my arms.

"Let me know if you see your Mom from this vantage point…" I say more to myself than her, she won't understand.

I waddle through the crowd with her on my hip, thinking to myself 'What am I going to do with her if her mother doesn't come'.

I'm almost back at my table when a woman's voice cries out.

"Marina! Marina! I can see her! Someone's got her! That little boy's got her!"

Little boy…great!

A hysterical woman pushes her way through, and the girl in my arms sees her. She instantly reaches out, unbalancing herself. I nearly fall forwards with the force of her reach.

"Marina! Oh my darling!" The woman scoops her wandering child out of my grasp and paws at her face with relief. "Thank you, thank you so much! Than—" She finally looks up and sees my face. "Oh…umm thank you…" Suddenly her gratefulness is muted. Perhaps she doesn't like the idea of her infant daughter being in a killer's hands.

"No problem," I mutter, turning around to continue my journey. As I walk away I hear the mother call out to someone else.

"Excuse me Sir! I've got her! Thank you so much for your help. Johanna Mason found her!" I instinctively turn around at the mention of my name to see who she's talking to.

It's a tall guy, probably a similar age to me, perhaps a few years older. He's wearing a long brown coat that falls to his knees and a brimmed hat pulled down low across his eyes. He hobbles towards her, his left leg looks stiff and he leans on a crutch, relief is spread across his face too. There's something familiar about his gait though, the way he holds himself.

He tips his hat at the lady and then looks over her shoulder at me. We're both sort of captured looking at each other. I know this person. Who is it?

He seems to be equally confused and lifts off his hat, holding it to his chest.

I see one stone-grey eye, and one bright white eye which has a scar stricken through it reaching from between his eyebrows, down to the top of his left cheekbone. There's no mistaking his identity now though.

There are about five steps between him and I, but I feel like I hover the whole distance. The world disappears around us and I stand almost chest-to-chest with him.

"Iberio…" I whisper, unsure. Is it really him?

He clears his throat and nods, his eyes hitting the floor.

My hands are on his coat, running up the lapels. I can't believe it's him. Here. Alive. Where his lapels end at his collar, I seize it in two fists and pull his face down to mine. I kiss his lips hard and desperately.

Everyone I've lost and now I've finally found someone.

Eventually I come to my senses and realise that it's been a very long time since we were last in this position, and even then it was a little awkward, so I pull away, straightening his collar as I do.

"Sorry about that…" I say quietly after a little, awkward clearing of the throat.

"And there was me thinking you wouldn't recognise me…" he smiles, touching the back of his neck with the hand not on the crutch.

"Oh I don't, this is how I say hello to strangers now." I grin, my eyes flicking all over him, taking in everything I can.

"Well then, it's nice to meet you." He lowers his head again and drops a feather-light kiss to my mouth. "That's how I say that now."

"Good to know, good to know," I nod.

My hand finds it's way up to his left cheek, just under the scar. He winces.

"Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Not anymore, not physically anyway." Then he matches my touch by placing his own free hand against my cheek. "Not now I know you still recognise me underneath it."

My heart swells as he guides our lips together again. I don't know if it's the rush of seeing someone from home, or the relief of knowing he's not dead, but I could stay here all day, just kissing him, everything else forgotten about. Except…except that there are people around us. Lost people, looking for their loved ones. People who are afraid that their loved ones are dead, and here I am flaunting my found…friend in front of them all. With all the kissing, I can hardly tell them that he's my broth—

"Your brother!" I break away and exclaim.

"Oddly, that's not the first time that's happened when I've kissed a girl," he says bemused.

"No! Your brother, he was here! I have his address! It's right at my table! Come on!" I let go of him and bound through the crowd towards my table. When I reach my table I realise that I am not being closely followed. I've lost him already.

"Iberio?!" I call out.

"Coming, coming!" He appears behind another tall man, his hat back on his head as he hobbles towards me.

"Sorry, I…I forgot about…" I nod at the crutch.

"Don't worry, I forget too sometimes, what are you looking at?"

"Oh yes, this is the list of people who have reported addresses for us to send their family to if they appear." I turn back to face the table and feel him move in close behind me. When I stand up straight, list in hand, he presses his cheek against my temple. Just like he did the day he picked me up in the snow to stop me from freezing to death. I steal a moment to take a deep breath and collect myself before I show him the list.

"Look here it is: Libro Philips, above the dressmakers on Silicon Street."

He reaches around to take the list from me. He holds it closer, and to the right hand side. He must be blind in his left eye because of it's discolouration, or it's a different colour because he's blind…I don't know.

He lets out a shaky breath and murmurs,

"I can't believe it. He's here?"

"A couple of blocks that way," I point across the street. "You could walk it."

"He's…alive…he's ok?"

As I look at him, he's still staring at the list, both eyes moving across the paper, but only one eye seeing it.

"I'd say he's definitely come off all of this the best. No obvious injuries," I tell him.

Iberio gives the paper a smile, "He was always the handsome one."

"Hmm…I wouldn't say that." I tease the paper out of his hands and set it down on the table again.

He pulls me into his body and holds me tightly.

"You're wonderful." He kisses the top of my head twice.

I try to think of some kind of joke to come back with but I can't. He's found his brother.

"Go," I say quietly.

"What?" Keeping his arms around me, he pulls back a little.

"Go," I say again, more determinedly. "Go to him. Seriously, just down there, go straight for two blocks and Silicone Street is on your right. Tell him I said 'hi'."

He looks down at me speechless.

"But…I just found you," he finally gets out.

"So? You'll find me again, I'm here all day. At this very table." I knock twice on the metallic collapsible thing beside me. "Go find your brother. I can wait."

He closes his eyes and holds me tighter against his chest.

"I'll come back," he says.

"I'll be here."

"Just down there?"

"Just down there."

He looks excited. He looks happy. He looks irresistible. I cup the back of his neck and plant one more kiss on him before sending him on his way.

I greet my next family with a beaming smile.


	4. Over Time, I Could

**A/N- Just for those of you who haven't read my first Johanna Mason story, the next couple of chapters refer mainly to Chapters 71-78 if you want to get yourselves acquainted with Iberio :)**

* * *

**Chapter Four- Over Time, I Could**

The smile fades pretty quickly after having to tell a few more people that their family members are among the dead.

When seven pm arrives and it's time to fold down the tables for the day, I am exhausted. Yolanda chatters away to the other volunteers but they leave me alone, they all saw me with Iberio earlier but no one has asked me about it. That suits me just fine.

I collapse my table and carry it into the foyer of the Training Center to prop it up against the wall ready for tomorrow. When I return to the circle outside, I see the other volunteers standing around a man in a brown coat.

"Johanna, your dinner date is here!" Yolanda coos. I hate her.

"Ok, see you tomorrow." I wave and take Iberio's arm to lead him away.

"They seem nice," he says with a smile.

"They're vacuous tarts, most of them."

"You…you mean you don't like the friendly people? Johanna you do surprise me," he chuckles.

"Hey I'm going to let that one go, but you can't hide behind that crutch forever you know. Eventually my sympathy will wane."

Now we're far enough away, I slow down to his pace and link arms with him.

"How was your brother?"

"Amazing, incredible. He's been in District 4 all this time. All those years I was standing in the snow, watching work teams, and he was chilling out on the beach in the sun!"

"I'm sure that's not all he was doing," I smile.

"No, that's what he said too but I don't know…Anyway what did that woman say about a dinner date? Are we going to dinner?"

He unhooks his arm from mine and instead puts it around my shoulders, so I put mine around his waist. If we were still in District 7 we would be stared at, but here we just look like a lucky couple, taking a stroll. I quite like it.

"I don't know, the fine restaurants of the Capitol have really gone downhill since they were all bombed to crap," I admit. "Besides if you're staying with your brother I don't want to go too far, you've already done a lot of walking today." I nod at the crutch.

"It's fine, as long as I have a sit down, I'll be fine."

"We could sit here if you like?" I gesture to some benches around a gigantic concrete ball that seems to be in the middle of the sidewalk for no reason.

"Sure."

We sit, me still tucked under his arm, the crutch on the bench next to him, and watch the few other people milling around as the sun goes down.

It's peaceful. Really peaceful. I haven't felt this calm for a long time, well, not without any chemical help of course. We find ourselves talking in whispers, drawing closer and closer. We make jokes about District 7 life, and then kiss again. Then we get on to talking about his brother.

"He did look very tanned," I say. "Maybe he did a bit of sunbathing in between shifts?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he charmed his way out of quite a few shifts. It sounds like he had quite a few girls there too! Maybe he got a few tips from Finnick Odair while he was out there."

I stiffen at the first syllable of his name. Everything runs cold and I'm taken right back to the funeral. It was the last time I heard his name in full. It was the last time I gave up. There was no tall, handsome Peacekeeper to scoop me up and make it all better then. There was just emptiness, darkness…and Morphling.

Iberio falters, noticing my drained face.

"Oh I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I completely forgot about…" He kisses my temple repeatedly. "I forgot…everything. I've thought of nothing else for so long and then in this moment, I completely forgot. I'm so sorry."

He places his hand over mine in comfort. I let him interlink our fingers.

"Johanna? Come on Mason, I just found you, don't make me lose you again."

"Mason. That's what he called me." I whisper. "I think you could have been friends."

He shakes his head, "No we couldn't."

That snaps me out of my daydream. I wasn't expecting him to disagree with me. I frown, confused.

"I watched what I could of the Quarter Quell," he explains. "Tried to score Square Duty in District 8 whenever I could so I could see you on the big screens. Thought my blood was going to boil when he carried you into the water to wash the blood off you."

With a pained reluctance, I allow myself to remember that moment. He dunked me under the water to stop me screaming curses at Katniss, but afterwards we held on to each other tightly. It was only out of relief but I can see how to an audience, it might have looked a little more intimate.

"I mean I always knew that you two were close," Iberio continues. "But you never talked about him in 7 so I guess I just assumed that it was all Capitol exaggeration. Then, the way he called your name when the cameras spotted you in the distance with Beetee and the woman from 3, betrayed him. I thought for sure that he loved you. But then he just left you behind with Brutus and a spear sticking out of you…I didn't care who he was or what he was famous for, I wanted to kill him for just leaving you there."

It doesn't even feel like he's talking to me anymore. He's facing forward, his free hand clenched in his lap, his face angrier than I've ever seen it.

"Then I saw the propo of you all training together and I thought to myself 'He's charmed his way back in again' and I hated that. I didn't think you'd fall for that kind of thing…"

"We were just friends, I promise you. You know about Annie now don't you? I told him to go," I say quietly. "They must have cut the broadcast but when I was propped up with the spear, I told him to leave me behind. He had to get the rest of them out. I had no one left to go home to, but he had Annie…not that it made a difference."

"Did…" he looks as though he's struggling with the next question. His eyes still avoid me but his fist has relaxed. "Did you think…about me?"

"No."

His breath rattles out of him and it drains all warmth out of me. He swallows hard so I grab his other hand and hold both of them tightly.

"You left, you left District 7 without a word. It took me a week to find out that you'd even gone! I had to find out from that sleazebag, Chalk who then tried to touch me up! He told me 8 was a battleground so I was sure you were dead long ago, before the rebellion even started properly. They tried to use you against me during the game but I didn't even know how I felt about you until your brother turned up last week and there was a possibility that you were alive. I didn't know how I would feel seeing you again until this afternoon."

"Well I think—"

"No! Don't think! You don't have to think. I'm here and you're here and you're not a Peacekeeper any more and I'm not a Victor anymore. We're just normal people, in a new world now. We can do this all differently, start again like nothing happened. No one needs to talk about the past, or about…other people. Start again. Hi I'm Johanna." I offer him my hand to shake, but he ignores it.

"I love you Johanna." He speaks ahead of him towards the sunset but then turns to watch my reaction. "Always have, ever since you first said 'Hey Stretch, pass me the nail gun.'"

"I…I…" What do I say?! I'm stunned. This isn't how you start again. You don't start afresh by saying 'I love you'. "I don't know what to say, Iberio."

His face goes stony again and he turns back towards the setting sun.

"That's fine."

"No," I tug on his arm. "No it isn't! It isn't fine! Nothing's fine! It's not fine that it's been so long since we last saw each other and then after five minutes you tell me you love me. Everyone who's told me they loved me has died Iberio! My whole family, my best friends. It's going to take a little longer than five minutes to feel safe enough to let myself feel that way again and I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I can't do it!" Tears are prickling at my eyes but I force them back. "I'm sorry that you love me and I don't love you…_yet._ But, if you can just be patient, I think maybe, over time, I could…"

Now my hands are in his. When did that happen?

He kisses my temple again.

"I guess this war has damaged us both."

I nod.

"I'd like to get better with you though if that's ok?" he adds.

I nod again and nestle my face into the crook of his neck.

"How's your leg?" I ask.

"It's ok, why?"

"Think you can manage the walk back to my room?"

"Definitely."

"You don't even know how far it is!"

"How far is it?"

"About si—" I start to say but he cuts in,

"Definitely."


	5. Scars

**Chapter Five- Scars**

We wobble down the road, through the city to Snow's old mansion. We stop at the gates and I press the buzzer.

"It's me!" I call out when the buzzer is answered.

"Who?" the voice comes back.

I roll my eyes at Iberio.

"Henry, there's a camera right here." I tap the box. "If you just look at the TV screen right in front of you, you'll see who it is."

"Who's that with you?"

"It's none of your damn business, that's who it is!" I'm starting to get a little annoyed with Henry. He's a lovely boy, someone's nephew who needed a job to keep him out of the way, but he's overestimated his own level of power in this new gate-keeping post.

"I'm not allowed to let people in if I don't know who they are…"

"But you know me Henry! It's not like he's appeared on his own. He's going to be with me the whole time, just open the gate."

"Err…I'm really not sure…"

Iberio squeezes my arm sympathetically but it's too late. I get right up close to the camera and stare it down.

"Henry, you are going to have to let me in at some point and I will dangle you out of the window by your ankles for every minute that you have left us hanging around out here. So I suggest that you open the damned gate!"

There's a moment of hesitation and then the gate mechanism squeaks into action. I start forward but Iberio holds me back.

"Thank you Henry," he says into the little box, and then raises his eyebrow at me for me to do the same.

"About time Henry," I growl but Iberio doesn't allow that as an answer, so I mutter sulkily, "Thanks Henry," and pull Iberio through the gate.

Iberio, like I did the first time, stops in the foyer. His mouth open, he rotates slowly while staring up at the painted dome ceiling.

"Wow, you live here now?!" he gasps, still looking skyward.

"It's just a place to crash for now." I tug on his arm again to direct him to the grand staircase.

"A place to crash! It's stunning!"

He runs his hand along the dark wood banister, his eyes skimming the paintings on the walls as we ascend.

A couple of people pass us on the stairs but they don't give us a second look. They're all council members busying themselves with the rebuilding of our country, they are not bothered with gossip.

"Johanna?!"

Oh great…

"Johanna! Who is this?!"

We get to the top of the stairs and there, resting one arm on the banister, is Annie.

"None of your—" I start but Iberio offers his hand instead.

"An old friend of Johanna's from District 7, Iberio."

Annie releases her clamped hands from above her enormous belly and takes his hand, looking down at the clasped digits as if something odd might happen.

Iberio's eyes flick towards mine, confused.

I shake my head.

"This is Annie, " I sigh. "Annie, is there somewhere you could be that doesn't involve you floating around like a ghost?"

She takes her hand back and replaces it protectively over her pregnant bump.

"I was on my way down to the library…" she murmurs, still staring at Iberio.

"Ok, ok then, off we go." I guide her hand back to the banister and send her on her way.

"Will she be ok?" Iberio walks backwards beside me, watching Annie.

"Oh yeah, she comes and goes."

"Was it…was it my face that startled her?" He touches his scar self-consciously.

"No! Don't be silly, we've seen way worse around here. I think you threw her a little. It's been a while since we've had a handsome young man around. She's been getting better. I think she's been trying extra hard to hold it together for Baby-day…well that's what she calls it. I call it 'Shit Hits The Fan-day'. I bet she'll be back to normal by breakfast tomorrow. Here we are."

I stop outside the door to my room and my nerve falters.

"Did you want to come inside?"

He leans against the doorframe and looks down at me softly.

"Only if that's ok?"

I notice the arm that is sharing the weight on his crutch is shaking a little. It's been a long walk for him and we did the stairs pretty swiftly.

"Of course, come in." I open the door and motion for him to go in first.

He stops just inside the door.

"Oh…" He sounds disappointed.

"What?" I shut the door behind me and toss my jacket over the back of the chair in front of the desk.

"Nothing." He's standing beside the bed, looking around the room. "I think after the entrance, I was expecting something a little grander."

It's a plain room, a bed, a chair, a dresser, the desk and the chair. A door beside the window leads towards a simple bathroom.

"I swapped with someone for it. I didn't want anything that was too…Capitol," I explain. "Take a seat."

He lays the crutch down across the end of the bed and perches on the edge, then looks up at me expectantly.

"What now?"

"I don't really know," I confess. "I've not been very good at this 'getting better' thing so far. Everyone keeps trying to get me to talk but…I guess I'm not doing too well at that either."

"Who's 'everyone'?"

"Annie, my shrink…" Gale, but I don't mention this last one.

"Will you talk with me?" He's trying, so I shrug rather than outright refuse.

"I could try but we'll just end up arguing."

"Ok, what shall we talk about?"

I stand in front of him, my hands on his shoulders, like I'm bracing him for what I'm about to suggest. He parts his legs and pulls me into the gap. My hands instead go to the back of his head, my fingers combing through his dark hair. Last time I saw him it was the standard issue Peacekeeper buzz-cut, shaved close to his head. Now it's grown out and I squeeze two or three inches of it between my fingers.

I bend down and kiss him gently before pulling away, just a little.

"Tell me about your scars," I whisper against his lips.

"Will you tell me about yours?" he replies quietly.

I pause. It's a perfectly reasonable request…but can I do it?

He runs his hands up the side of my legs, stopping at my thighs, teasingly.

"Ok." I step back and pull off my t-shirt. I have nothing on underneath but that's not what makes my cheeks burn with shame.

Iberio rises to his feet carefully, leaving his crutch on the bed. He runs a thumb over one of the circular burn marks on my chest. There are four in total on my front, two on my chest and two on my abdomen, and four more dotted around my back.

"There's one more on my head but my hair's growing back and covering it up." My fingers find the spot on my crown where the last plug was stuck after they'd clumsily shaved my head.

"What are they?"

"Where they hooked me up to the mains after dousing me with water. It was like fire shooting through my veins."

I close my eyes and wait for the sympathetic moan that usually comes when people figure out what they did to me in that grey-tiled room in the basement of despair.

"Well check this out…"

I open my eyes. Iberio has shed his shirt and is also topless in front of me. He turns around and I see that the skin on his back has white pockmarks dotted all over it.

"You remember the fog from the arena? The one that disabled your nervous system?"

I nod, I wasn't there but I remember Finn—I remember being told about it and what it did. Poor Mags.

"Well they decided to release it on the rebels in District 2, that's where I got posted after 8. Can you believe it? Sending District 2 citizens back to fight their own people? I switched sides to warn them about the attack but they released it early. I only got it from behind and managed to outrun it, others weren't so lucky."

I turn around as well.

"Bullet got me in the shoulder in District 7. I wasn't deemed stable enough to go on the mission to the Capitol but they let me go home and fight there for a couple of weeks."

"How was it?" he asks. It was his home too for three years.

"I didn't even recognise it. The forests were on fire, the lumberyard burned to the ground. The Peacekeepers had trapped people inside the sawmill so we were a rescue mission, but they just opened fire on us." I tap a silvery scar on my chest just above one of the burn marks. "Obviously you saw how this one happened, Brutus's spear, just as painful coming out as when it went in."

Iberio pats his left leg.

"Shrapnel from an explosion, buried right into my knee tendons. Still there now."

"You can't get it removed?"

"Couldn't find any Capitol doctors with fancy lasers in District 2," he grimaces. "It doesn't hurt anymore but it's getting harder to move."

"What about this?" I reached up and gently trace the scar across his eye.

"My favourite…took a whip across the face. Our medic said that it caused a tear in my retina and the light just reflects straight off it now, that's why it looks the way it does, and why I can't see through it anymore."

"A whip across the face?"

"Yeah…I err…wasn't looking where I was going. Burst in on a mutt unit, the handler had a whip…Anyway, that's me." He spreads his arms and takes another stilted spin for me to see it all again. "Anymore for you?"

I hold out my right arm, palm facing up, but don't say anything. This is the one I'm most ashamed of.

He takes my arm in his gentle hands and searches the skin.

"I don't see anything…"

Without needing to look I point to one tiny speck of white shining, scarred skin in the crook of my elbow.

"Where they hooked in my morphling…"

"Really? I could have done with some of that for my knee…"

"The Capitol gave me a little every day, just enough to make me less aggressive, but still lucid enough to answer questions and feel what they were doing to me. They knew it would ruin me. They knew that, if I got rescued, the rebels would give me more to get me better and then I wouldn't be good for anything ever again. I'd be that wasted, yellowing freak drawing pictures in the dust before they ever had trouble from Johanna Mason again. If you'd come to District 13, you could have had some of mine…except I'd've never given you any. Katniss got shot in 2 and I leeched away some of her medicine to make myself feel better. It made me selfish and weak and I would have thrown you under a train just to get more…" I don't let my gaze drop. He needs to know what I was…

"But you're better now?" He has my elbow cupped in his left hand, while his right thumb strokes over the tiny scar.

"I'm clean, if that's what you mean." Now my eyes hit the floor. "Sometimes I feel like if I could just hook myself up again, I might be able to just slip away in peace. There's no one to leave behind, no one to throw under the train, just me. If I wanted to, I could just walk down to any of the abandoned hospitals here and bust open their stashes." This was a plan I'd thought of before but he doesn't need to know about the funeral.

Iberio lifts my arm up and then bends the rest of the way to plant his lips over the morphling scar.

"If I could suck out all the poison, I would," he whispers against my skin.

A wave of goosebumps rushes over me.

"I know."

"And if I could put out all the fires, then I would." His lips move to the circular burns on my chest. His kisses crawl up my neck and to my temple, before they move across my forehead, down my nose and to my mouth.

"I know." My fingers are in his hair again. They drift down the back of his neck and scrape across his shoulder blade.

With our bodies pressed together like this, I can feel the tension in his hips as he struggles to support his weight on his bad knee so, without taking my lips away from his, I back him up to the bed.

"You know what I'd do for you?" I murmur, getting him to sit down.

"What?" He grins up at me and I straddle his lap, taking my own weight on my knees rather than sitting on him.

"I would do absolutely…" I drop him a kiss after every word. "Nothing."

He frowns and I laugh at the pucker in between his eyebrows.

"That's not what I thought you were going to say…" he pouts.

"I don't need to do anything. Every single one of these scars," I kiss the one on his face, just above the crease in his frown. "is a medal to your bravery. Not a single one was earned through weakness or fault."

"I sure wish they didn't make me _feel_ weak though." He grits his teeth. "Like how you've made me sit down and now you won't sit on my lap, you're hovering like you're afraid you're going to break me."

"I am," I admit. "But only because I don't think you'll tell me if you're uncomfortable."

"Then let _me_ make that decision. If I don't want to tell you that I'm in pain, then that's my choice, ok?"

I nod. "Ok."

"Now sit on my damn lap Johanna Mason!"

Now it's my turn to grin at him. I shuffle around and slowly lower myself down to sideways sitting position across his thighs.

"Happy now?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Ecstatic," he replies sincerely, and then seizes my mouth with his own once more.

I don't know how long we sit like that, just kissing, but the moon is shining brightly through the window by the time I come up for air.

"What time is it?" I mutter to myself, reaching over to turn around the clock on the bedside table.

Iberio hisses sharply in pain. I rise up on my knees quickly, afraid that I've hurt his knee.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?"

"Yes, you pinched my thigh when you leaned over like that!" he gasps, rubbing his outer thigh with a flat palm.

"Oh ok, in that case, I'm not sorry."

"You're mean!"

"You're only just realising this? I seem to recall you wouldn't let me in to see Katniss and Peeta on the Victory Tour because you thought I might start a bitchfight…You knew what you were signing up for." I check the clock. "It's 9pm! Do you want me to walk you back to Silicon Street? Won't your brother be worried?!"

"No, no, I…err…described our greeting today and he predicted that I might not be back at all tonight…" He looks a little sheepish.

"Did you put money on it?" I ask sharply.

"No, of course not!"

"Then I see no reason for him not to be right, you can stay if you want…I mean I don't want to baby you, but…you look a little uncomfortable, you know with your knee so I don't know if the walk will do you any good."

Iberio clears his throat.

"What did I say? Let me be the one to make the decision…you know my knee does feel a little stiff, I probably shouldn't put myself through that long walk again."

We share a smile, which turns into a few more kisses. His hand glides over the base of my spine, and then a little lower. I quickly dismount him.

"Are you hungry? I think we missed dinner but we could take a look through the kitchen, see what we could find?" I start to pull my shirt back on.

"I'm not hungry Johanna…"

"Are you sure? They have all kinds of bread here, they might have some District 2 bread that you could take to your brother tomorrow."

"Johanna…"

"In fact we could make up a hamper or something, I can't imagine he's getting very good meals over the—"

"Johanna!" Iberio grabs both of my wrists and jerks my attention back to him. "You're being weird…I know why you're being weird, you know why you're being weird so lets just stop."

"I'm not being weird!" I stamp a foot.

"Yes you are. I accidentally touched your butt and you've leapt away from me like I've caught on fire…"

"That's not why…" I start feebly, but he nods his head.

"Yes it is, and I remember what you said when I picked you up in the snow. I took you back to your house and asked which bedroom was yours. You said 'that's what they all say, I just want a cuddle, now take off your clothes'."

"You remember that?!"

He nods again.

"I'm not going to be like that ok? Now…" He struggles to his feet again and turns around to lift the corner of the blanket. "I'm not hungry, but I am getting tired, so would you mind if I got into this bed with you? It'll be just like the last time, see I'm half-dressed and everything!"

I shake my head with a smile and put a hand to his cheek. He traces the lines of my fingers with his own.

"Better get up then, so we can get in," I say softly and he kisses the inside of my wrist.

It is just like last time, I get in first and then he gathers me in his arms, flooding me with warmth and we fall asleep like that.


	6. Feelings

Chapter Six- Feelings

We fall asleep like that every night for the next twelve nights. I have a few meetings during the daytime, and I go to the city circle as usual, so he goes to his brother, but we always fall asleep together.

We both have nightmares, sometimes simultaneously, and we always hold each other a little tighter afterwards.

On the twelfth morning, Iberio asks me if I would like to take my shower before him.

"No thank you, you go ahead," I say from the dressing table, where I'm trying to tame a strand of hair that refuses to lie flat.

"You know," he says, leaning on the end of the bed. "I've never been here when you've showered…"

"Are you saying I smell?" I drop the hairbrush down indignantly.

"No, no." He comes around and sits on the edge of the bed, I still see him in my mirror though. "I'm saying that I know you shower, because you don't smell, but I've never seen it. Why don't you shower when I'm here?"

I shrug.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

His grey eye studies me carefully in the glass. I don't like it.

"Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?" he says innocently.

"Like you're trying to read my thoughts, stop it. I don't know why I don't shower when you're here."

"Yes you do," he says again. "Is it because of your scars?"

"I don't know." I stare down at the hairbrush on the table. "Maybe."

He gets up again and stands behind me, combing his fingers through my hair. They slip down my neck and across my shoulders. Then they slowly dip below the neckline of my shirt, down my chest to where the burnt circles are.

My eyes droop closed when his lips press against my neck, just below my right ear.

"Why don't you shower when I'm here darling?"

"It takes too long," I breathe. "And I don't want you to laugh at me, so I wait until you're gone, or I come home earlier to shower before you arrive."

"Would you shower with me?"

The goosebumps spread all over me again.

I shake my head.

"No." I catch his eye in the mirror again. "I can't. It's…it's pretty hard for me to do by myself, but I'm getting better. I just don't think I'm ready for you to see it yet."

"Ok…" Another kiss to my neck and he sits back on the bed again. "Hey, do you want to come to visit my brother with me today? He'd love to meet you."

I spin around on the chair so that I'm facing him.

"I've already met your brother."

"You know what I mean, properly meet him, as in have a real conversation with him."

"Sure, I don't think I have any meetings today." I roll my eyes skywards as I try to remember. "Nope, don't think so."

He follows my eyes to the ceiling,

"You have your itinerary up there?"

"Yup can't you see it? Maybe we should get your good eye tested."

He shoots me a withering look.

"A joke about my eyesight, really?"

"Ok, ok," I admit, it was bad taste. "You can get me back later. Go take your shower, I'll go and get some District 2 sandwiches to give to your brother."

We hobble to Silicon Street, where Iberio takes over the navigation and leads me to an abandoned dressmaker's shop. There's a little door to one side with a mailbox that leads to the rooms above the shop. Just as we reach it, an old woman with three small children are leaving. Iberio holds the door for them and then we slip in and up the stairs. Iberio knocks on the door labelled 'Number 7' and finds that it's open, ever so slightly ajar.

We share a puzzled look, and then hear the sound of something falling over and breaking inside.

I push the door open.

"Careful," Iberio tells me, following close behind.

"It's probably just looters," I say. "We'll scare them off, you'll hit them with your crutch, it'll be good fun."

We step into the apartment and, a questioning 'Hello' on our lips, we stop dead.

"Oh gosh!" Iberio exclaims, clamping a hand across my eyes.

I catch a quick glimpse of some naked flesh before the darkness behind his fingers takes over.

Something else breaks and there's the sound of someone scrambling around.

"Iberio! I didn't know you were visiting today!" I hear Libro's voice exclaim. "You said Johanna wasn't working so I just assumed…this is Juliet—"

"Julianne!" a female voice interjects.

"Sorry, yes, Julianne, she lives just down the hall. Err…you wanna give us a couple of minutes?"

"We'll wait outside." Iberio's hands direct me back through the door we'd just come through and I hear it close loudly before he finally releases me. "_That _was awkward! I'm so sorry, I had no idea!"

I laugh.

"It's ok, I think it's kind of funny."

"I'm glad someone does then," he says through gritted teeth. "I really wish he knew their names…"

"Well," I start, pressing my body close to his, picking at the collar of his shirt, "we can't all be as chivalrous as you babe…tell me what was the name of that 'laundress' that I overheard you and Chalk talking about in District 7?"

"You really never forget do you?"

"Nope," I grin and our lips meet briefly before the door opens again.

A blonde woman, of no more than twenty, dashes out of Libro's apartment, pulling on a cardigan as she leaves.

"Nice to meet you Julianne!" I call after her.

Libro is still topless, leaning against the doorframe.

"Did she go into number 5 or 3?" he asks.

"Didn't see, why?" Iberio pushes past his brother, back into the apartment.

"Can't remember which one she is…the married one or the one whose father I have to hide from."

"Johanna, this is my little brother," Iberio sighs.

He wipes down his hand on his pants and offers it to me. I grimace but take it and he kisses the back of my hand.

"Lovely to properly meet you, you know when you're not asking identifying questions of course."

"Yes, we go way back. You were a lot different back then."

"Please, take a seat, you'll notice my brother doesn't bother with the politeness of waiting to be invited."

Iberio has already sat down on a box at the other side of the room.

"I don't know if you could call this a seat," he replies.

"I'm sorry, we can't all shack up in the President's Mansion," Libro retorts and then immediately turns to me. "No offence."

"None taken. Is there a box for me to sit on…?"

"Err…there are some…but I don't think you want to sit on them…not after what you just saw…"

I cringe.

"I'll stand then, it's fine."

Iberio is rubbing his forehead.

They really are very similar in looks. Both have dark hair, though Libro's has a slight curl to the ends, and they both have that hard jaw that, when set, means business. They share their grey eyes too, but the younger brother's have a naïve sparkle to them, or perhaps that's just to do with his morning's 'exercise'.

"I brought Johanna here to meet you, you're embarrassing me right now!"

"Well if you'd called first, I could have put my top hat and tails on!"

"Do you even have a phone?"

I interrupt them.

"I'm starting to see why they posted you in different Districts. Libro, do you have a bathroom I could use?" I hope that if I'm not in the room then Iberio won't be so embarrassed and Libro won't have to feel like he's let his brother down.

"It's a shared bathroom with the rest of the floor, if that's ok? It's just down the hall where you came in, the door at the end on the right," he tells me.

"Do you want me to show you?" Iberio makes to stand up.

"No, no. You stay, I'll find it. Room with a toilet yeah?"

I find and use the facilities but take my time returning to number 7, to give them time alone. My brother, Joey, and I had a rather large age gap between us, much larger than the year or so between Iberio and Libro, so I've never experienced this kind of antagonism that comes between two close siblings.

When I get to the door, I press my ear against it, just to see if they have calmed down a little.

"—get into trouble one of these days," Iberio's voice says.

"Oh just chill out, like you're not going to get into trouble banging a Victor. You know everyone's talking about whether or not they were on the rebels side at all," Libro replies.

"Shut up," Iberio's voice rises. "Don't you dare say that! I know which side she's on ok? I've seen what the Capitol did to her! We're not the only ones with scars you know? Besides, I'm not 'banging' her."

"Ooh sorry, 'making love', then. Do you want some tea? I found a box in the cupboard the other day."

"Sure. Not even 'making love' actually. We're not all animals that have to hump anything that moves…"

"Can you even…you know with you being a cripple now?"

I hear Iberio sigh.

"Your sympathy is overwhelming. I don't know…I mean…I _can_ but I haven't worked out _how_ yet."

"What do you mean how? I thought that Laundress showed you how," Libro chuckles.

That damn Laundress!

"You know what I mean!" Iberio exclaims. "With this damn knee I don't quite know…oh I don't know, I guess I don't want to be all clumsy and ruin the moment you know?"

"No, I don't know. I just tell the ladies that I was in the war and they pretty much wrap themselves around me. Have you tried that? Here's your tea."

Should I go back in now? I don't want to go in too soon, in case Iberio works out that I've been listening…but then I can't leave it too long or he'll think I've been in the bathroom all this time.

"I'm not sure that's going to work with Johanna, you know, what with her being 'in the war' as well."

"She's a Victor, you'll just have to impress her with an enormous weapon…if you know what I mean," Libro snickers.

"The more I talk to you, the more I realise how great those years of estrangement were."

I quickly turn the doorknob and march back into the room before another argument can break out.

"Is that tea?" I sing. "I wouldn't mind a cup if you don't mind." I'd much prefer something stronger right now but ordering a drink at this time of the morning is never a good first impression to make.

I sit cross-legged on the floor, cupping the candleholder of tea I get handed.

"Sorry, there wasn't a lot of crockery that came with the place," Libro apologises.

"That's ok." I try to smile but I keep hearing his 'banging a Victor' comment. "Here in the Capitol they smash a plate as soon as they're done with it anyway," I joke, and then worry that it might sound like I know what I'm talking about because I know the Capitol so well, which of course I do, but not because I was on the Capitol's side…

"…yeah Johanna?" Iberio is saying to me.

"Sorry what?" I stare blankly at him. I was too caught up monitoring my own words.

"I said we might be able to find some plates and cups somewhere, maybe the odd fork, a singular spoon?"

"Or some knives," Libro winks at me. "Bet you know where to get them."

My gut tightens. My jaw clenches. I stare down at my hands. Don't say _anything_ Johanna, don't ruin this.

"Are you ok?" Iberio touches my knee when his brother goes to take a look for something for lunch.

"Yup," I say a little too quickly, which gives me away.

"No you're not. Don't listen to him. I think he's just a little starstruck."

I can't tell him about overhearing the 'Victor conspiracy' discussion without admitting that I also heard the rest of it and embarrassing him.

"I am, I'm fine."

He narrows his eyes at me again, doing his mind-reading thing.

"So we're just going to do this later are we?"

Which means we're going to argue about this later because I'm not going to tell him why I'm upset.

"Fine." I roll my eyes.

"Hey Johanna, think fast!" Libro cries from the kitchen just seconds before a broom flies over my shoulder.

"Libro!" Iberio exclaims. "I can't believe you just did that!"

I pick up the broom and hand it back over to him. "Need to work on your aim," I say flatly.

"Sorry, I was just trying to channel my inner-Finnick Od—"

Here comes that horrible cold feeling again.

"I've just remembered something!" I babble and jump up suddenly. "I forgot to…pick up…my…feet and go to that thing I have to go to." It's flimsy in the highest order but I'm at the door before Iberio can get to his feet.

"Johanna!" he calls after me but I reply to him that I'm very busy and I'll see him later. He knows exactly why I'm making a break for it and he'll make me talk about it later, but he's got to catch me first.

I don't know where to go. I can't go back to the Mansion yet because that's where Iberio will go first and I don't want to discuss it all yet. I don't want to see his disappointed face because I've embarrassed him in front of his brother, and I can't tell him about the overheard conversation.

Stupid feelings! If there were no feelings I'd have burst right in and punched Libro as soon as he said anything about not trusting the Victors. I'd have punched him again when he made the knife joke. I wouldn't have cared when Iberio was annoyed and I'd be drinking in my armchair right now.

There _must _be another armchair that I can drink in somewhere, a bar or something…or…

An enormous pale brick building stands in front of me. I haven't kept very good track of direction, so I'm not entirely sure where I am, but I can quite easily see the enormous white 'H' on a blue sign.

The main door in front of me is half off its hinges. This one's already been looted, I tell myself, just move on.

Except I'm already inside.

If there were no feelings then I'd be able to hear _his_ name again. I wouldn't embarrass myself, or anyone else by just running out of rooms. I wouldn't get all sensitive about ridiculous gossip.

My shoes squeak down the corridors on their own. I don't look. I don't search. My feet lead me to that door. I don't need to open it. I don't need to read the sign. I know what's on the other side. Isolation, _again_.

Isolation, but no more feelings.


	7. Hurt

**Chapter Seven- Hurt**

"What are you doing Mason?" his distinct District 4 accent wafts across the room from the door.

"Mowing the lawn," I reply sarcastically. "What does it look like, genius?"

"It looks like you're being stupid."

"Then that's what I'm doing, well done, you win."

I replace my roommate's needle into where it should be and climb back onto my own bed. I hadn't managed to get much, certainly not enough to handle this situation.

"Did you want something?" I sneer at him. "Lost your way?"

He closes the door softly behind him, casting only a passing glance at my roommate, before sitting on the edge of my bed.

"I haven't been to visit much, I know."

"Haven't you? I've had a lot of visitors; it's hard to remember the faces. I'm surprised you managed to fight your way through the throng of many well-wishers." I gesture grandly to the empty room and the silent corridor outside.

"No 'Get Well Soon' cards huh?"

"Not so much as a single grape either," I grimace. I don't want people fussing around me, I screamed as much at the annoying Head Doctor that kept showing up, but some flicker of concern would have been nice.

"Here." He passes me a scrappy piece of brown paper, from a bag perhaps, with 'Take It Easy But Get Well Sooon' and his signature scrawled across it. "Sorry it doesn't have a cartoon of a teddy bear with an eye patch on it, but they ration everything here, even paper."

"'Soon' only has two 'o's in it, brainless," I tell him, but I prop his note up on the table next to my bed.

"I know, I didn't have an eraser so I just left it."

Silence. Uncomfortable silence. This is new.

"How's Annie?" I ask, guilt struggling against the tiny amount of Morphling still in my veins.

"She's ok." He nods. "It's…it's a struggle at times." He looks down at the mattress, as if he's the worst person in the world for admitting it. "She _was _getting better but…we've just been set back about six years. It's ok though, we did it before, we'll do it again. She looks way better than you."

"Thanks for that, story of my life," I mutter, and he finally flashes those white teeth of his.

"You know what I mean, when they brought you in I thought they were going to snap you in half if they hit a bump with that gurney." His smile fades and his hand finds mine on top of the crisp sheets. "I was scared."

"No you weren't," I scoff, bitterly watching our fingers slowly and carefully entwine. "Maybe for a second, but then you saw Annie and forgot me."

"No, no I didn't, don't think that. I didn't forget you." His rough, tanned hands grip my slender pale ones tightly. "I _had_ to be there for Annie, you…you're strong Jo, she's not. She's not strong and I had to be there for her. You know, you understand don't you?"

I chew on my lower lip. He's not how I remember him. He's not the charismatic, composed man that was my friend in the Capitol. He's nervous, his hand is shaking in mine while the other one rakes through his hair, or plays with his ear, or rubs the light stubble on his chin. He's not who I imagined coming back to.

"I understand," I tell him. "I just want to—"

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. His eyes are wide and desperate. "I'm so sorry Johanna. It's my fault. I should have stayed with you. I shouldn't have run off in the arena like that. I could have carried you, maybe we both would have gotten away."

"No we wouldn't, we just both would have been taken," I roll my eyes. Doesn't he think I've been through the same alternative scenarios a thousand times during my time in that basement?

"But at least then they might not have gone so hard on you, an they wouldn't have brought Annie in."

"Yes they would!" I exclaim, annoyed. "Stop it! Stop moping around, thinking 'what if', it doesn't help. 'What if I'd died in the 71st Games instead of winning?' didn't stop them electrocuting me. 'What if we hadn't tried to bust out of the arena?', didn't make it hurt less. 'What if you hadn't put Katniss first and had taken me with you instead?' didn't stop them telling me they were going to make it so Annie couldn't have kids anymore. Nothing stopped it. Nothing stopped the pain, the screams, the fire, the hunger, the thirst for the water that was destroying me!" I pull my hand out of his, irritated with this weak shadow he appears to have become while I was away.

"Stop it," he moans. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I'm so much to blame for what's happened to you and Annie. I'm the reason she doesn't sleep, I'm the reason you've got those scars."

"No you're not," I snort. "_I'm_ the reason I have these scars. They started just trying to starve me, but I've starved before so it wasn't that easy for them. I laughed when they came, so they chained me up and put the most amazing smelling dish just out of reach. I gave them a false name just to get the stew but they didn't give it to me. Then when they found out I'd lied, big surprise there, they brought out the electrodes. See, it was my own fault that I have these scars."

"What name did you give?"

"Trinity Marther," I chuckle. It was the alias Beetee gave me when I was running a secret mission for the rebellion before the Quarter Quell. "They discovered that she'd been snooping around the Population Division a couple of years ago, and then just dropped off the map. So I think they put two and two together and got zero, which _really_ pissed them off."

"Did you tell them anything?"

There's a beat where a light bulb lights up in my head with the all the strength of a blinding fog light.

"They sent you in here to talk to me didn't they? To find out what I told them…"

"No, of course not." He keeps staring at the bed.

"You're a shit liar!" I growl. "Get out of here. Go back to your girlfriend."

I tear back the bedclothes and get under them, pulling them up over my head so I don't have to look at him. How dare he? How dare he leave me by myself for so long and then only come to see me to get information out of me! My anger swiftly heats up under the sheets but I haven't felt his weight shift so I stay here, silent.

There's a funny sound, almost like a whispered laugh. Is he laughing at me?! Fuming, I throw away the bedclothes again and glare up at him. His shoulders are heaving, and he has the heel of his palms pressed to his eyes.

"Are…are you crying?"

Sure enough his face is wet, and his eyes are all pink and puffy.

"I'm sorry Johanna," he sobs. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't come see you…I was afraid that you'd hate me and I…I couldn't lose you too. I was too scared, and then Plutarch said you wouldn't talk to the doctor so he thought I might do better."

He was scared. I've never seen him scared. I've seen him worried, and anxious, but never scared.

"So, if Plutarch hadn't told you to come and poke around my brain, you never would have come to see me?"

So this is what it feels like when your heart breaks.

"I would have, I promise you." He clenches his fists together passionately. "I would have come, I just needed to be more ready than this." He wipes his eyes on his knuckles and sniffs loudly. "I'm sorry." He finally gets up and puts his hands behind his head. "I shouldn't be breaking down like this, not here, not when you…" He walks in a small circle.

"Do you need to leave?" I ask quietly.

"No, I don't need to leave. I can handle this, I can do this, I can do this," he repeats in a chant. "Let's just start again. Go from the beginning." He pulls open the door, and then shuts it again. "Hey Mason, how are things?" He perches on the side of the bed once more, exactly where he had been before.

"Don't do this," I put my hand on his knee. "Don't be weird. Just tell them that I didn't say anything that the Capitol hadn't already worked out for themselves. Go back to Annie. I've come this far by myself, and quite frankly I'd rather stay by myself than watch you have a breakdown. I _can't_ handle that and after everything I've been through, I think you owe me."

Without warning he leans forward and plants his salty lips on mine. It takes a full five seconds for what is happening to register in my brain and, with my heart still splintering, I push him away.

"Go away, you're a mess, and everything you're doing right now is hurting me." I say, my voice wobbling in the middle. "Go back to Annie."

His watery eyes show a hint of relenting, a moment before he wipes his face again and stands up.

"I'm going to come back," he tells me firmly.

"When you're being less stupid," I confirm.

"When I can't hurt you anymore." Then he nods at Katniss's Morphling drip. "I hope when I come back you're being less stupid." The door falls closed behind him, and I'm immediately out of bed.

I carefully take the needle and put it back in my own arm.

Relief, pure, infinite relief cools my veins like a trickling stream after a hot drought. I slither down to the floor, my back against the wall and close my eyes. Tears sting at my eyelids and I take long breaths through my nose, struggling to keep the sobs inside.

When I open my eyes again, the needle in my hand is blurry…and empty. I drop it to the floor of the medical store cupboard and stamp on it.

I'm on the floor, propped up against the wall, just like I was in the District 13 hospital room, but this time the relief isn't infinite. Every inch of my body feels relaxed, but something is nagging under the cloudiness. It feels awkward, like there's a lump in my bed.

A boyish face with bronze hair, and shining wet green eyes swims in front of me again, but then it fades into another. It's a dark head and dark, thick eyebrows, lovely cool grey eyes, Iberio before the scars. I try to reach out to him but then he too starts to fade away.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "It just hurt too much." My mouth twitches downwards and the tears break free.

I try to reach for Iberio, or Finnick, whoever he is, once more and fall forwards onto the cold linoleum floor, and then, lying there, pathetic and high, I cry.

And I cry.

And I cry.


	8. Tears

**Chapter Eight- Tears**

When I come to, I'm still on the floor but I seem to have made my way out of the cupboard and am sprawled on my front in the corridor.

Sunlight streams through the oval windows but I have no clue whether it is still the day I met Libro, or the next.

"Oh…" I moan to myself, touching my cheek where a slimy slither of saliva has collected. My head pounds, and it feels like my brain is sloshing around loose in my skull with every movement. My mouth is dry like a desert. I need a drink.

I struggle to my feet shakily. It wasn't like this at the funeral. Maybe my tolerance has gone down during my dry spell.

I feel like crap, I'm pretty sure I look like crap too. I get a few stares on the street but they probably all think I'm on a 'Walk of Shame'. That Johanna Mason, such a slut.

Halfway through my journey, I prop myself against a doorframe and pay a woman all the money in my pockets for a drink of water. The first glass disappears within seconds so she comps me the second.

Thirst only partially slaked; I get another four blocks before a scream rips through my skull.

"Johannaaa!"

Annie is running towards me, supporting her protruding belly with one hand, calling my name again and again. I put my hands over my ears but it doesn't block out the sound. She screeches and embraces me fiercely.

"Where have you been?!" she cries. "We've been looking for you for two days!"

_Two _days? Did I help myself to even more than I first thought? No wonder I'm so hung over.

"I'm sorry," I mumble and then push her off me, her stomach is sticking into my stomach and making me feel sick.

She grabs my face and pries open my eyes between her index fingers and thumbs.

"Ow." I groan and snap my head away quickly. "What are you doing?"

"Your eyes look weird."

"No they don't, shut up." I turn away from her and see her companions, two guys from the mansion. I've seen one of them eating dinner with Gale, he must be from the District 2 band of makeshift Peacekeepers left in the Capitol to keep some semblance of order.

"Johanna…" Annie says again but I walk away from her, in the direction I believe the mansion to be in.

"Johanna!"

I ignore her and keep walking. I want to run but I don't think my stomach will handle it. All the water I drank is sitting heavily inside me, so it's no longer just my brain sloshing around. I just want to get under the sheets of my own bed and only come out to throw up in my own toilet.

Annie and her friends follow me, chanting my name over and over, until we get to the mansion. We have to stop for the gate to be opened but, when she finally catches up with me, Annie doesn't say anything. She just watches me, anxiety stitching her face into a frown.

The gate opens and I shove it aside clumsily, my wrist gets hooked between one of the bars and I get painfully yanked back. That's embarrassing. I guess my reactions are still a little slow.

I eventually find my room, flail with the doorknob for an awkward length of time and then shut out the world.

I take off my smelly, sweaty clothes and leave them in a pile on the floor as I slip under the cool sheets and curl up like a foetus in the linen womb.

Everything that I saw yesterday, or the day before…two days _really? _Morphling is supposed to make things better, it's meant to erase the pain, not replay it all out for me to enjoy in high definition and stereo sound.

He was there, right in front of me. I could smell his skin, I could taste his salty kiss. He was alive again.

My eyes flicker closed and I lie there with my arms outstretched wishing for him to appear again and fill them. Even if it wasn't his whole body, even if it was just his head again. Just his forehead pressed against mine, or just his head resting against my shoulder.

"Come on…" I whisper. There must still be _some_ Morphling left in my system to account for my clumsiness, so why isn't he coming to me?

There's a soft click and I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter. The mattress bows under extra weight beside me, and I smile.

"You're here," I say softly.

"Mmm hmm," he replies and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Where have you been?"

That's not right. That's a different voice, a different accent and a different timbre.

"Was it something I said?" he says.

I shake my head and fight back the tears prickling at my eyes.

"No, no," I murmur. I don't want things to be real. I try to pull away from the gentle hand that cups my cheek, but another arm holds me tight.

"Shh." Iberio, for that is who it is sharing my bed and not a ghost, brings my head to his chest.

Struggling makes me feel sick again so I just lay limp in this awkward position.

"Where did you go?" He talks like he's speaking to a child, and his fingers comb my hair around the contours of my ear. I feel like a pet rabbit.

I shrug.

"No, don't do that. Don't do that," he sighs and holds me closer. "I came straight back here but no one had seen you. I told Annie, and between us we checked all the hospitals."

Not all of them, I add in my head.

"What happened?"

"I took a vacation," I slur, which surprises me. Maybe I'm just tired. I better not speak again otherwise he'll figure it out.

"A vacation at a bar?"

"Maybe."

Yes let him think I'm just drunk. That's better than the truth. Better a drunk than a morphling addict, especially given the scars of his own battles that he, too, bears. He struggles too but he doesn't show it. I've just demonstrated that I don't have his strength. I'm already weak, why not be a liar as well?

"Why did you go Johanna?"

I can't even remember anymore. Why was it? Something to do with a knife? Or was it a broom?

"I don't know," I tell him honestly.

"Well something triggered it, please tell me so I don't do it again. I was so worried…"

"I really don't know."

"Was it…was it because Libro said _his_ name?"

Oh yeah. It's coming back to me now: the suspicion of the Victors that made me want to hit him, Iberio's anxiety about sleeping with me. I guess that's one of his struggles that I've seen, not that he meant to show it of course.

Suddenly everything sharpens in my mind. To absolve my own weakness, I should make him stronger! I should take away one of his struggles.

My eyes snap open and I lift my pounding head from his chest.

"What? What is it?" He looks alarmed. "What's—"

I don't allow him to finish. I crush our lips together fiercely, his head locked between both of my hands. I slide my left leg over his hip and then push myself up so I'm sitting over his pelvis.

"Johanna, what are you doing?" he asks as my fingers hurriedly address the buckle of his belt.

"I'm making it better," I reply, roughly pulling the belt out of its loops.

My hands, almost like claws, pull at his shirt, exposing his taut torso. I lean over and lay a trail of kisses across his stomach on a downward route to the waistband of his pants. I'm about to remove this obstacle when his hands seize the top of my arms tightly.

"Stop it," he firmly says. "This isn't coming from the right place. I don't know where it's coming from, but it's not right."

"But it's what you want!" I protest, letting my hands do a little more exploring.

His breath catches in his throat as a result of my wandering, but he grabs my wrist and pulls it away, planting it safely on his chest instead.

"When did I ever say that _this_ is what I wanted?"

His eyes hurt me, so I stare at my hands instead.

"For starters, I'd like to be a little more involved in this decision, _and _the actual action itself come to think of it. Secondly, I don't exactly feel like merging bodies with someone who looks like they might puke at any moment. Thirdly, I'm pretty tired because I've been out looking for you all night, and finally I've got a nasty feeling that you're only doing this because you don't want to talk."

When I was nine, I said a nasty word to a boy at school. I thought it was pretty funny at the time, and I was quite proud of myself. Then I got home. My father yelled at me in a way that I'd never known before. I burst into noisy tears, alternating between sobbing and gulping for about an hour. Every time I thought back to the awful, disappointed look in his eyes, I'd dissolve into the salty, wet cycle all over again.

It's happening now. I can feel a sob building in my throat. I cover my face with both hands and sit there, still across him, trying to get a grip on myself.

"Come on," Iberio says gently, guiding me back down to the mattress and pulling the sheets back over the two of us.

I try to choke down the sob, disguise it as a cough or something, but it doesn't work. It breaks free and now I know it's not going to stop. All credit to him, Iberio doesn't say anything while it's happening, he just lets me pour my tears all down his shirt. I don't know how long it lasts, time has been acting a bit weirdly for me over the past few days, but the sun has gone when I eventually surface.

"I'm going to change my shirt." He slips out of the bed and pulls off the sodden material. The sight of the pockmarks on his back entices another tear from the corner of my eye, and I sneak a quick look at the newly reopened needle scar on my arm. It's the mark of a coward, not a hero like his scars.

"Water?"

I shove my arm back under the sheet and nod.

He returns from the bathroom with a tumbler of water, which he hands to me, before getting back in beside me, still shirtless.

"I thought I'd go into 'Easy Wipe' mode," he explains, while plumping up the pillows so we can sit back in comfort.

He puts one arm around me and entwines his other hand with mine between us. He kisses the top of my head and then says,

"I think we need an appointment with the Head Doctor."

It pains me to do it, but I nod. He kisses me again.

"I love you."

I swallow my mouthful and squeeze his hand.

"I know."


End file.
